“It’s winter” Says A Cracked Photo Frame.

  • The Spicy scent, a few candles and a cracked photo frame under a weak light. the temperature of the room seems sweltering though it’s winter.
    The weather seems strange, some days are rainy some times stormy and some others are quite wintery.
    But he doesn’t have any reason to breakdown the seasons, specify the days or think of himself that who he is or where he lives…
    He remember that once upon a time…
    Years ago, when it was one…
    Then he remembers that it was fall… “one of those lovely falls, which its scenes were fantasized by God himself in the heaven, its smell is made from the odour of the petals of roses; planted by the hands of teen angel who used to dream about her love, who’s coming riding a white Horse, with a guitar in his hand, playing lovely music in the night of making love in The Holy Land”.
    “Never mind” he says to himself.
    He laughes to the himself, that still can think about the falls, Lovely.
    “It was never mine”. The angel’s dream, and the feeling that makes him think of falls as a lovely season was not his.
    Actually it was her who came as an angel and it was fall when she came.
    “They were all the same” he thinks.
    Before her coming all of the seasons were the same, no (fall), no fantasy, no angel, no dream, no sweetheart no lover and no love.
    Every things were the same;
    There was real life running, there was happiness in the seconds and joy in the days. “Aliveness on life” he says to himself.
    She came and everything got changed, the falls become lovely, the nights become fantasized, the seconds become years and the aliveness went away…
    Things become different, as the days become night and the nights become rainy while the moonshine and raindrops were illuminating the scenes of making love in The Holy Land’s sky. The raindrop which is connecting the glory of the sky with the desires of the flower’s petals. … she became the sky, love became raindrops and he…
    “Never mind man” he continued as he was remembering the past.
    Now it’s winter, there is no fall to dream about, no day to become night no night to become rainy, no raindrop… And no angel.
    The angel herself is gone, the dryness made the petals pale and faded…
    “It’s winter” he added.
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